


Aftermath Of Dementors

by carabc03



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abusive Dursley Family, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Child Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Good Dudley Dursley, Hurt/Comfort, Nice Dudley, OotP, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter), PLEASE DONT READ IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH ABUSE, Physical Abuse, Protective Ron Weasley, Redeemed Dudley Dursley, Vernon Dursley Being an Asshole, abusive vernon dursley, and probably some other weasleys down the road, havent quite decided where this is going yet, protective arthur weasley, stay safe my friends, the weasley family is a blessing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-15 10:56:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11804595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carabc03/pseuds/carabc03
Summary: After Harry saves Dudley from the Dementors, Dudley suddenly realizes that maybe magic isn't so bad. This leads to some questions, and to some revelations that lead to Harry being saved from the Dursleys.(Or the one where Dudley is actually a decent human who was just brainwashed by his parents into certain beliefs, and Vernon Dursley is a monster)Set in early Order Of The Phoenix, before the actual plot kicks in.THIS STORY CONTAINS CHILD ABUSE, PLEASE DON'T READ IF THAT MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE





	1. Chapter 1

Harry looks up from where he’s sitting on the swings to notice Dudley and his minions approaching. They’re laughing about something. _Probably mugged a kid, or perhaps killed a puppy,_ Harry muses mentally. “Hey, Big D.”

The smirk on Dudley’s face pulls down into an angry scowl as he hears his cousin’s sarcastic greeting.

“Beat up another ten year old?” Harry asks conversationally.

“This one deserved it,” Dudley spits. His cronies let out a chorus of agreements behind him.

“Five against one. Very brave,” Harry comments.

“Well, you're one to talk!” Dudley says, stepping forward menacingly. “Moaning in your sleep every night? At least I'm not afraid of my pillow!”

Harry freezes.

“‘Don’t kill Cedric!’” Dudley mocks, repeating what Harry so often whimpers in his nightmares. “Who’s Cedric, your boyfriend?”

“Shut up,” Harry orders sharply, fighting to control his anger.

“‘He’s going to kill me, mum!’” Dudley continues jeering, ignoring the warning. Then he looks directly at his cousin. “Where is your mum? Where’s your mum, Potter?”

Harry’s blood is boiling. He didn't think even Dudley would sink this low. The bully himself looks a little shocked by his own words. “Don't talk about her. Or Cedric.”

Whatever hint of remorse Dudley might have shown is instantly wiped away. Harry’s words sets the gang off again, their laughter growing louder. “Is he actually your boyfriend, Potter?” Dudley crows.

“No,” Harry tells him. “He was my friend.”

Dudley looks faintly surprised at the use of the past tense- clearly he had assumed the dreams were fiction, and Cedric hadn't actually died. “Was?”

“Yes,” Harry snaps, “was. And I say that because he was killed in front of me. By the same guy who killed my parents, in fact.” He isn't sure why he's saying all this, but he supposes it doesn't really matter- Dudley’ll taunt him no matter what he says, and his friends will just think he's talking out of his arse.

As expected, the goons start laughing even harder. Dudley doesn't, though. He looks confused, and there’s something else there, too.

Harry shakes his head. “Just get away from me.” As he begins to walk away, the sky suddenly darkens. The wind picks up, and everything is coated in a menacing blue light.

The strange expression stays on Dudley’s face, even as his friends panic and scatter. “What are you doing?”

“I'm not doing anything!” Harry shouts, equally confused by the sudden change. Debris is starting to fly through the air, whipping around in the wind. He wonders briefly if it’s a tornado, but surely natural weather doesn't become disastrous so quickly.

The two begin to run, Harry in the lead as his huge cousin struggles to keep up. The dark clouds seem to be chasing them.

They manage to take shelter in an abandoned tunnel. Harry is filled with a sense of dread when he notices the lights flickering. _Something is wrong._

Just as this occurs to him, a huge black figure swoops out of nowhere. Harry barely has time to recognize it as a Dementor before it’s pinning him to the wall by his throat. He struggles to catch his breath enough to choke out, “Dudley- run!”

After a slight hesitation, his cousin obeys, but within seconds his feet are swept out from under him by an invisible force. Another Dementor glides in, hovering over the trembling Muggle.

Harry struggles against the blackness that begins to cloud his vision as the Dementor starts its attack. He fights to overpower the screams of his parents, the vacant stare on Cedric’s face as he lay dead, the indescribable pain of the Cruciatus-

He manages to get his wand out and immediately hits the Dementor with it as hard as he can. It’s enough that the cloaked figure is jolted backwards and away from him, and that’s all he needs.

“ _Expecto patronum!_ ” Harry cries, and immediately brilliant white light floods out of his wand and casts the Dementor away.

He turns to see that his cousin is still pinned down and turns his patronus around to fight his Dementor off as well.

Harry casts a wary eye over Dudley’s sweaty, trembling body, still lying on the dirty cement floor. _This will be hard to explain to Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon…_

Dudley is conscious, but too dazed to move.

With a sigh, Harry picks up Dudley’s feet and begins to walk, dragging his enormous cousin behind him. There’s no way he can carry him, so this is the best he can do.

After about half an hour of this method of transportation, Dudley finally comes to enough to snap that he can walk himself, and then proceed to lean heavily on Harry the whole way home.

“My little Duddykins!” Petunia shrieks when she sees them making their way up the driveway. She runs over and pulls her son into a hug, scowling at Harry over his shoulder.

“What's he done to you, sweetums?” She leads them inside, immediately getting Dudley a blanket and setting to work on making hot chocolate for him while cooing random words of comfort here and there.

Once Dudley has been properly fretted over, Petunia starts to ask about what happened.

Dudley, who is still in a mild state of shock, can't quite seem to find the words. He just throws random phrases together in no particular method or order. “Cloak… monsters… Harry… spell…”

“Harry cast a spell on you? He summoned monsters?!” Petunia cries in horror.

At that precise moment, Uncle Vernon walks in the front door, and Harry decides that if any type of god exists it must really want him dead.

“YOU WHAT?!” He roars, immediately turning a multitude of colors, ranging from vivid purple to the grey of week old porridge.

“I didn't-” Harry begins, but is cut off before he can get more than a few words out.

“WE TOOK YOU IN OUT OF THE GOODNESS OF OUR HEARTS AFTER YOUR WORTHLESS PARENTS GOT THEMSELVES KILLED, AND YOU GO AND DO THIS TO OUR PRECIOUS SON? YOU DISGRACE! YOU'LL BE OUT OF THIS HOUSE BEFORE MORNING!” Vernon bellows.

“How dare you!” Petunia picks up where Vernon left off, continuing to shriek at Harry. “I always knew you were a freak, but this is worse than I ever could have dreamed! We gave you our son’s clothes! We let you eat our food! How dare you be so ungrateful as to contaminate our household! How could you-”

“He saved me,” Dudley speaks up finally, his voice hollow and his expression still stunned.

“What?” Aunt Petunia gasps, clutching her chest.

“Did you mess with his mind?” Uncle Vernon roars, his face bright red as he looms over Harry’s small body. “Did you use that freakishness on my son? Answer me, boy!”  


“No!” Harry cries. “I'm not allowed to use magic outside of school, remember?” He ignores the way his uncle flinches at ‘the m word’. “I'd be expelled!”  


“Well, you summoned the- the monsters that attacked my Dudders! You were going to be expelled anyway, so you changed his memory of it!” Vernon concludes, rage about the magic and smugness over having figured out Harry’s master plan warring for dominance in his eyes.

“He was attacked too, Dad,” Dudley puts in hoarsely.

Vernon scoffs. “A likely story!”

“No, it's true!” Harry says desperately, overcoming his shock at Dudley’s support in order to defend himself. “It left bruises on my neck, see!” He tilts his head up so that the marks left from being choked are more visible.

Petunia appears somewhat unsure now, but Uncle Vernon just looks even angrier.

“You did that to yourself, no doubt!”

“ _What?!_ ” Harry might have found the idiotic logic funny if he weren’t so scared.

“You're upsetting Duddykins!” Petunia frets.

“Just go to your room, boy,” Uncle Vernon growls. “We’ll finish this later.”

Harry doesn't need to be told twice. He jumps at the opportunity to escape the conversation and runs up the stairs, the sound of his aunt fussing over Dudley eventually fading when he closes his door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically, Harry and Dudley have a talk about what happened. During this talk, Harry realizes Dudley isn't actually that bad, and Dudley realizes that his parents are, in fact, that bad.

He lies down and closes his eyes. He’s still exhausted from the attack- Dementors always leave him feeling drained, not to mention casting the Patronus Charm and having to use it on not one but two Dementors.

 _Maybe I should’ve just let the Dementor get Dudley,_ he thinks bitterly. But he knows he would never do something like that to his cousin. He’s a prat, but he doesn't deserve to get his soul sucked out.

Harry considers getting some sleep- his aunt and uncle will most likely kick him out after this stunt, and he doesn't know how long it will be before he can rest on an actual bed again- but he knows he would undoubtedly have another nightmare. Merlin knows the last thing he needs is to make Uncle Vernon even angrier by screaming in his sleep.

He hears footsteps walking heavily up the stairs and groans quietly. Uncle Vernon is probably coming to finish their earlier argument.

Harry freezes when he hears a knock at his door. His relatives never knock.

“Oi, Potter, open up,” Dudley demands, his voice muffled through the wood.

 _Oh, goody, he’s back to his usual charming self_ , Harry thinks wryly.

The banging on his door becomes more insistent.

“Dudley, I don't have a lock,” Harry reminds him tiredly. “You can just come in.”

Dudley enters, shifting his weight awkwardly. He looks a bit pale, but he seems to be recovered from the Dementors for the most part.

“Do you need something?” Harry asks, trying not to sound rude. He knows saying one wrong word will set his relatives on him again, and if he has to live on the streets, he’d prefer to do it bruise-free.

He knows Dudley might have just defended Harry to his parents because out of fear that now he was presumably expelled, he wouldn’t hold back his magic, and therefore wanted to stay on his good side.

“Yeah, I just wanted to…” Dudley trails off, looking immensely uncomfortable.

Harry sighs. “I didn't summon the Dem- the things that attacked us, I swear.” He knows Dudley doesn't know what the Dementors are called, and wouldn’t want to learn anything associated with the wizarding world, so he doesn't name them. 

“Yeah, I know, that,” Dudley scoffs. “I seriously doubt you would summon something that would strangle you, and besides, you used illegal magic just to send it away. Even you're not that stupid.”

“Um, thanks?” Harry says carefully.

Dudley continues to look awkward.

“Seriously, can I help you with something?”

“What I said earlier. About your mum. I shouldn't’ve- That was messed up, I mean,” Dudley says in a quiet voice.

“Yes, it was,” Harry agrees evenly. He knows he should just thank him and end it there, but it's true. Dudley had gone too far. Harry can take a lot of insults, but going after his mom and Cedric was like a punch to the gut, and he doesn't want to forgive and forget so quickly.

“What I'm trying to say is- well, I- I'm sorry,” Dudley gets out, and his face is contorted as though the apology physically hurts him. Which, knowing Dudley, it probably does. 

“Oh,” Harry says, unsure of how to respond. “Thanks, I guess.”

“And what I said about Cedric, that wasn't- I didn't know. I thought it was just a dream, I didn't know he was actually dead.”

“Well, he is,” Harry says grimly. “Like I told you earlier, it was the same wizard who killed my parents.”

“What's his name?”

“Voldemort, but most people don't like to say his name. Pretty much everyone except my headmaster and I call him He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, You-Know-Who, The Dark Lord, things like that,” Harry tells him.

“They call him that?” Dudley asks, looking shocked. “Why?”

“He’s evil,” Harry says mildly. “People are scared.”

“But still,” Dudley argues, “is he really that bad that they can't even say his name?”

Harry clenches his fists. “He killed my parents.”

Dudley seems to realize he’s hit a nerve, and holds his hands up defensively. “I know, I'm not trying to- I guess what I'm saying is, people get killed all the time, but we still don’t treat serial killers’ names like curses. Not even the really bad ones, you know, Jack the Ripper and the like.”

Harry is suddenly furious at his parents being lumped into the category of ‘just some people’. He wants to scream that they were more than names, more than statistics, more than some sad, hopeless victims. But he knows that's not fair. Dudley’s making an effort, and as weird as it is, Harry should too.

“So?” Dudley prompts impatiently after Harry remains silent too long. “Why can't you say his name?”

Harry runs a hand through his wild black hair. “I don't think I'm explaining this right. He's not _just_ a serial killer, Dudley. He's the worst of the worst.”

“Yeah, but-”

“No, you don't get it. He's powerful, and ruthless, and immortal. Or at least, on his way to immortality, if he hasn't gotten there yet.”

“How- how powerful is he?” Dudley squeaks.

“Very,” Harry says simply. “But still, even though he’s got all that power and he’s willing to use the Unforgivables, he would have been taken down easily if he were alone. But Dudley, he has an _army_. A whole legion of the worst kinds of wizards and witches, all doing his dirty work, killing people like my parents. They're called Death Eaters, and there are loads of them. That's what makes Voldemort so dangerous.”

“What are the Unforgivables?” Dudley asks in a shaking voice.

“Oh, right, I forgot you didn't know about those. They’re the curses that no one is allowed to use, no matter what. Things like the Killing Curse- that's how he killed my parents, and how I got this scar- the Cruciatus, which is used to torture, and is not a lot of fun, by the way, and the Imperius, which makes people have to do whatever you say. Just dangerous things like that- spells that can't possibly be used for good.”

“Does the killing curse not always work, then?” Dudley asks with a frown. “I mean, if you survived?”

“I'm the only person who ever has, and the scar still affects me to this day,” Harry says solemnly.

“Wait- so you’ve gotten the torture one?”

“The Cruciatus, and yes. After Voldemort killed Cedric, he decided to torture me a bit. Just for laughs,” Harry spits bitterly.

“Oh,” Dudley says in a small voice. “I guess I can understand why people don't want to say his name, then.”

“Yeah,” Harry mutters.

“I didn't know wizards had spells they can't use,” Dudley says, changing the subject a bit.

“Of course we do!” Harry says, somewhat affronted. “What, did you think we were just allowed free reign to go around cursing people as we please?”

Dudley bristles in irritation. “Well, how should I know your fancy magic rules?” He snaps defensively.

“Okay, you're right, I shouldn't have expected you to know,” Harry admits, raising his hands in surrender.

“So, what happens if you use one of the Unforgivables?”

“Well, mostly you get sent to Azkaban, which is the worst wizarding prison in the world. The guards are Dementors- those are the things that attacked us- and they do to their prisoners what they did to us, except a thousand times worse, every day. If you do something _really_ awful, you get the Dementor’s Kiss, which basically means you get your soul sucked out. Not very pleasant, that.”

Dudley takes all this in with wide eyes, but frowns slightly when the explanation is done. “Is that what he was doing to us? Trying to suck our souls out?”

Harry struggles to explain. “Not exactly. Dementors feed on human happiness, so when they get close to you, they suck all of your happiness out, and they essentially show you your worst memories. It’s awful.”

“So do the Dementors show you Cedric, then?” Dudley asks cautiously.

Harry shrugs. “Among other things.”

Dudley seems to be awaiting more information, but none is forthcoming. After a moment of silence, he prods, “what other things?”

Harry turns to look at his cousin. He searches his face, not quite sure what he’s looking for but desperately hoping he finds it. He finds no trace of malice, and he supposes that's enough. “I see my parents dying. And I hear Voldemort laughing as he kills them.”

“You can remember that?” Dudley asks, aghast.

“Sort of,” Harry says, squinting. “I can remember bits and pieces. Like the bright green light of the killing curse, and my parents screaming. I can hear their last words.”

“What do they say?” Dudley asks, his tone more serious than Harry’s ever heard him.

“My dad says ‘ _Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off-_ ’” Harry says, hoping fiercely that Dudley ignores the way his voice breaks and the tears shining in his eyes. “He didn’t even have a wand, he was just trying to save my mom and me.”

“Wow,” Dudley says simply, eyes wide. “Do you- can you hear your mom, too?”

Harry nods. “She says, ‘ _Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!_ ’ And then Voldemort says, ‘ _Stand aside, you silly girl... stand aside, now…_ ’ and then she says, ‘ _Not Harry, please, no, take me, kill me instead- Not Harry! Please... have mercy... have mercy…_ ’ and then-” This time Harry has to look away, wiping his eyes and keeping them cast down. “And then there’s just a lot of screaming.”

“I'm sorry,” Dudley says earnestly, and Harry is so shocked that he can do nothing but nod.

After a moment, Harry hesitantly begins to speak. “What… what did the Dementors make you see?”

“Remember that time when your wizard friend gave me a piece of candy and it made my tongue all huge and swollen?”

Harry frowns. “That's what you saw? Was it that bad?”

“Well, it made it kind of hard to breathe, and I started panicking. I was worried I was gonna choke to death on my own tongue and Mum and Dad weren’t gonna let that older wizard fix it just ‘cause of how they feel about your kind. It was just… I don't know. It made me wonder if they hate magic more than they love me.”

“I never thought of it that way. Sorry, Dudley. I didn't know you were actually that scared.”

“I mean, I can see why you wouldn't think of it as a big deal. You’ve been tortured and watched people die and my worst memory is a bit of candy,” Dudley says, sounding a little ashamed.

“It's not a competition,” Harry points out gently.

Dudley shrugs. “Still.”

Neither of them say anything for some time, giving Harry time to reflect on how odd all of this is. _Maybe he’s grateful I saved him,_ Harry thinks. A few hours ago he wouldn’t have even been able to think that without laughing, but now it seems like a very real possibility.

“Harry?” Dudley begins hesitantly, breaking the silence. “Do you ever- do you ever see me when a Dementor is attacking you?” 

“No. I do see Uncle Vernon sometimes, though. Before I found out about Hogwarts, he used to get- erm- a bit more… physical, than he does now,” Harry explains.

“He hit you?” Dudley seems genuinely shocked.

“It wasn’t a big deal,” Harry says, frowning. He didn't really think Dudley would care- in fact, he had kind of assumed his cousin already knew. “It wasn't that often, most of the time when he was mad he just sent me to my cupboard, and I didn't mind that so much after a while. Plus he almost never does anymore, although I expect tonight will be an exception after what happened.”

Dudley looks sickened, and Harry is suddenly unreasonably angry that he has the gall to look so horrified when he spent most of his childhood thinking up new and inventive ways to torture Harry.

“Why are you so surprised?” Harry snaps. “It's not like you were so wonderful to me, either. Remember Harry hunting? Remember blaming things on me all the time, even though you knew you wouldn't have gotten in trouble for them anyway? Remember stealing my food? Remember helping your parents come up with ridiculous punishments for me?” He’s raising his voice now. “Any of that ring a bell?”

“It's not the same!” Dudley explodes. “Yeah, I was an arse, and I know that, but I was a kid! I was a dumb, spoiled kid who was told my whole life that you were a freak and you wanted to hurt me! What did you expect? My parents brought me up on the idea that you were a monster, was I just supposed to magically have a moral code that told me they were wrong?”

Harry pauses. He had never thought of that.

“Harry, my parents, they- they _abused you._ ”

This brings Harry out of his shock, and he shakes his head vehemently. “No, they didn't. I mean, they weren’t exactly nice to me, but it was never abuse. I was fine.” 

“So what do you call it when adults call their kid names and make them do all the housework and punish them for nothing and don't feed them or buy them clothes and- God, they _hit you_! Do you realize that?”

“Of course I realize that!” Harry shouts. “You're the one that just found out! I had to live with it my whole life!”

“THAT'S MY POINT!” Dudley bellows even louder. Then his voice becomes quieter; he sounds almost ashamed. “You shouldn't have had to.”

At that moment, Uncle Vernon comes bursting in, summoned by the loud voices. “You!” He snarls at Harry, his face red and furious.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one's a little shorter than the last two have been, but I hope you like it anyway! I have the next chapter done and I'm working on the one after that, so this should be updated within a few days. Hopefully you enjoy!

“Dad, he didn't do anything!” Dudley snaps.

This, of course, convinces Uncle Vernon that Harry has done something. “I KNEW I SHOULD HAVE STAMPED THIS MAGIC NONSENSE OUT OF YOU BEFORE IT GOT THIS FAR!” He roars, charging at his nephew.

Harry tries to dart around Uncle Vernon, but the huge man grabs him before he can get away and pins him against the wall.

“Change him back!” Vernon demands, spittle flying into Harry’s face. “I'll kill you for this! I'll kill you!”

“No, you won't,” Dudley says. His hands are shaking, but his voice is calm. “I won't let you.”

Vernon’s grip tightens on Harry even as his face softens when he turns to look at his son. “Dudders, don't you see? This is his doing!”

“No, it's not!” Dudley cries. “Well, I mean, I guess it is, but he didn't use magic to do it!”

As much as Harry appreciates the effort, and he tries to convey his gratitude with his eyes, it's exactly the wrong thing to say.

“So he admits you did it!” Vernon whirls back on Harry triumphantly. “Guess your freakish tricks weren’t strong enough to beat my son!”

Uncle Vernon pauses, then turns to Dudley with a sickly sweet smile that looks incredibly wrong on his purple face. “Get out of here, son. I don't want you to see this.”

Harry winces; he's been living here long enough to know that words like that herald a beating.

“Don't do this, Dad,” Dudley pleads quietly. “I never realized it before, but this- what you do to him, it's-” He can't seem to get the word out, and Harry is so unspeakably grateful for that because he doesn't quite know what he would do if it were out there in the open. “It's not right,” Dudley finishes in a quavering voice.

“Listen, it may not make sense to you, but Harry isn't like us. His kind need to have this done to him.”

“He saved me!” Dudley shouts. “I'd be dead if it weren’t for him, doesn't that mean anything to you?”

Harry wisely decides not to mention that the Dementors wouldn't necessarily have killed them.

“Of course it would mean something if it were true,” Vernon assures his son placatingly. “But it's not. You'll see sense when I make him undo his freakishness, don't worry.”

Dudley’s eyes flicker from his father to Harry.

Harry tries to tell him without words that it's okay, he should just leave. He doesn't think he’ll be able to get his message across, but Dudley’s expressions hardens into one of steely resolution, and with a final nod to Harry, he leaves the room.

Harry sags in relief. He isn't sure if he could handle Dudley witnessing what he’s sure is going to happen.

“Petunia, why don't you go to the store?” Vernon shouts down the stairs. He usually sends her away before getting violent with Harry. She knows, of course, what happens while she’s gone, but it seems she prefers not to witness it.

“Now, where were we?” Uncle Vernon snarls, turning back to his struggling nephew.

Harry gulps.

Uncle Vernon pulls a meaty fist back before sending it shooting forward into Harry’s cheek.

Harry can't hold back a small gasp of pain, but within a second he’s schooled his features into a cool mask of neutrality. “Listen, if you want me gone, I'll go. You don't need to do all this.”

“I do want you out,” Vernon concedes, and Harry feels a brief spark of hope that maybe he’ll be able to leave unscathed. Of course, it’s too good to last, and his uncle quickly adds, “but not before you fix whatever nonsense you’ve done to poor Dudley.”

“When I leave, the spell will vanish,” Harry lies quickly.

Vernon scowls, leaning in so that his face is inches from Harry’s. “Don't lie to me, boy. Petunia’s told me all about your kind.”

Knowing he’s about to get hit again if he doesn't do something fast, Harry cries, “Not this kind of magic!”

Uncle Vernon hesitates.

Pressing his advantage, Harry hurries to explain. “There are blood wards that keep me safe while I'm here. You know about those. They’re different from the regular magic, and they only work as long as I live here. The spell I put on Dudley is based off of those blood wards, which is why my school hasn't found out about it yet and sent a note. It's the only kind of magic that wouldn't alert them, but that makes it less powerful, so it only stays intact while I'm here. As soon as I'm gone, the spell will be, too.”

Doubt flashes across his uncle’s face, and Harry hopes against hope that his lie works.

Vernon seems to accept the explanation for a minute, and his hold on his nephew loosens. Harry lets out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, and suddenly there’s an iron grip around his neck and a cold voice whispering in his ear.

“I don't believe you.”

Harry’s mind goes blank with terror, and he struggles to break free from his uncle’s strong hold, but he can't. Before he knows it, he's on the ground, and a huge foot is slamming into his ribs.

He lets out a strangled cry of pain, his whole body curling in on itself as tears roll down his face.

“Shut it, boy, the neighbors will hear,” Vernon growls, bending over enough to reward Harry with a fist to his eye.

Suddenly, a loud crashing sound is heard from downstairs.

Uncle Vernon hesitates before deciding that Harry, who is in a ball on the floor struggling to breathe, isn't exactly going anywhere. When he comes to that conclusion, he heads down the stairs to find the source of the sound.

Harry closes his eyes. He knows that he likely won't get another chance to escape, and he needs to move fast, but he's just so tired. He takes a deep, shaking breath before managing to pull himself to his feet with a sharp gasp of pain.

He walks as silently as he can to the stairs, looking down so that he can see where Uncle Vernon is and try and stay out of his line of sight.

When he sees no one, he carefully walks down, wincing with each step. He goes as quickly as he can, but the pain in his ribs and the fact that one of his eyes is swollen shut isn't exactly helping matters.

He finally reaches the bottom of the stairs, only to hear a horrified gasp.

“Harry!”

He closes his eyes with a sigh. “Look Dudley, you knew this would-” he cuts himself off upon seeing the source of the voice.

“Ron?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm not completely happy with this chapter, but I know I've taken ages to update (which I'm really sorry for, by the way) so I thought it was about time I got over myself and posted this despite my mixed feelings. Please review if you like it, and if you don't, I'd really appreciate feedback so I can improve. Without further ado, I hope you enjoy!

“Ron?”

Ron only nods weakly, taking in Harry’s bruised face with a look of horror.

“What are you doing here?” Harry hisses, looking around for any sign of his uncle. _If he sees Ron, we’re both dead._

“Your cousin called, said you were in trouble,” Ron says, his expression remaining the same as he speaks. “My dad had already gotten a letter from the Ministry saying you had cast underage magic, so we knew something was really wrong.”

“Wait- he called you?” Harry asks, his voice high pitched with disbelief.

“Yeah, I guess when I called you ages ago the number was saved on your phone, or you wrote it down or something. I don't really know exactly how Muggle phones work.”

Harry nods. “Yeah, my aunt probably wrote it down somewhere so we would all know not to accept calls from that number. But how did you get here?”

Ron finally tears his eyes away from the marks on his friend’s face. “Like I said, my dad got a letter. He was really worried after the call, so he drove us.”

“What- what exactly did Dudley say?” Harry asks carefully.

“He just said that you were in trouble and he was worried you were gonna get hurt,” Ron tells him with a frown, “But he didn't say who he thought was going to do it.”

Harry tries not to let his relief show on his face. “It was the Dementors,” he lies, immeasurably grateful for his cousin’s vagueness. “The magic I did was the Patronus charm.”

Ron narrows his eyes doubtfully. “Are you sure? ‘Cause your cousin said he thought you were _going_ to get hurt, not that you already had, and I think he would have mentioned a Dementor.”

“He was with me when the Dementor attacked,” Harry explains, glad that there’s some truth to his words. “He was pretty shaken up, and you know how my aunt and uncle are about magic- I guess he was just worried that if I got my wand taken, the Dementors might come back, and I wouldn't be able to help him.”

“He didn't seem worried about himself at all, though,” Ron’s eyes look over him searchingly, “He only talked about you.”

Harry doesn't have an answer, so he just shrugs wordlessly.

“Oh- I kind of broke a vase when I came in. Sorry,” Ron says sheepishly.

_So that was the crashing sound. But why didn't my uncle come back up immediately, then? He would have seen the shattered vase and just come back. He shouldn't be taking so long-_

At that exact moment, Arthur Weasley enters the room. His expression contorts when he sees the bruises on Harry’s face, but he doesn't look surprised.

“Mr. Weasley?” Harry asks, shocked. Ron had mentioned that his father had come, but Harry hadn't known he was in the house.

“I used the full-body bind on your uncle,” Arthur says by way of greeting, “and now that I'm sure he did this, I don't regret it in the slightest.”

“You said it was the Dementor!” Ron whirls on Harry, looking anguished.

“It was! My uncle wouldn't- why did you freeze him?” Harry gasps.

“He pulled a gun on me. I suppose he had a right to, as we broke in, but I wasn't terribly keen on being shot, so I froze him before he could pull the trigger. Then I saw his bruised knuckles and suspected-” he motions to Harry’s face. “I'm so sorry, son. If I had known…”

“He didn't!” Harry cries desperately.

“Yes, he did,” a quiet voice speaks up.

Harry whirls around frantically to see Dudley.

“I was being nice to Harry for once, so my dad thought he put a spell on me and started hitting him,” Dudley tells the Weasleys, who look disgusted.

Harry can't deny it any longer, not that anyone believed him anyway. Instead, he looks down at his feet, too ashamed to look anywhere else.

“Harry, look at me,” Arthur says gently.

Harry can't bring himself to. He continues looking down, his eyes on the floor but so unfocused that he can't even really see it.

He hears Arthur breathe in deeply, and he doesn't even want to imagine the look he’s sure is on his father figure’s face.

“Why wouldn't you tell us?” He asks softly. “We would have helped. Molly and I, we think of you as a son, you know that. We would have taken you in in a second.”

Harry shakes his head wordlessly, fighting to steady his voice before he responds, “I didn't think it was that bad.”

“Of course it's that bloody bad!” Ron shouts.

Harry flinches.

His gaze is still fixed on the floor, but he freezes as soon as he realizes his mistake. He can hear Arthur’s sharp intake of breath, and he doesn't think there is any force in existence that could bring him to meet Ron’s eyes in that moment.

Ron’s voice is as serious as Harry’s ever heard him when he says, “Harry, I would never-”

“I know,” Harry interrupts, because he doesn't think he can handle hearing the end of that sentence. His best friend shouldn't have to tell him that he's not going to hurt him. He feels a flood of guilt for putting Ron in that position.

“We need to get out of here,” Arthur says after a beat of silence, his voice still thick with emotion. “Your uncle will wake up eventually, and I don't want you to be here when he does.”

“You don't want _me_ to be here?” Harry asks with a frown. “What about you?”

Arthur’s face darkens. “I have a few choice words I would like to exchange with that vile man,” he spits, “and I will not be held responsible for my actions if I find out anything like this has happened before.”

“What are you going to do to him?” Dudley asks in a shaky voice. Harry had almost forgotten he was still there.

“I won't kill him, of course,” Arthur says quickly, masking some of his anger now that he remembers he’s speaking of this boy’s father.

“You'll hurt him, though.” It's not a question, and Harry is glad for that, because he doesn't think anyone wants to answer it.

“What about Dudley?” Harry asks. “He’ll come with us, right? You won't leave him here?”

“Of course not!” Arthur assures him. “I would never leave a child with someone capable of- of this sort of violence,” he swallows hard, gesturing to Harry’s injuries.

“You think my dad would hurt me?” Dudley asks hoarsely, and it hits Harry like a brick that his cousin really never even considered that Vernon was abusive. Dudley had told him as much earlier, but it’s only now sinking in, and Harry is surprised by the relief he feels at the realization.

“I think your father is a powerful man who is not above acting on his worst impulses, and I would not feel comfortable leaving you alone with him under these circumstances,” Arthur says carefully.

Dudley looks away, but nods.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Ron asks. “Let’s get out of here, and you-” he turns to Harry, “-are never coming back.”


End file.
